Page 27 of A Dangerous Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #4)

Kaitlyn stared at her across the room. Her hand went to her belly in an unconscious protective gesture. “How do you know so much about this gang of outlaws?” she asked, her tone a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

A wave of nausea washed over her. Clare would have to tell the truth. She wanted to tell the truth. She blinked back tears.

“I’m not Clare Ferguson. I’m not a widow with two boys. I lied”—she looked around the room—“to everyone. I’m Clare Barlow. Sister to Victor Barlow.”

Drew was taken aback but recovered quickly. Tears streamed down Clare’s face as she watched Kaitlyn’s expression turn from shock to hurt. Ed and Nick dropped their gazes to the table. They already knew the truth about her identity.

“I promised their mother before she died that I would not let the boys follow in their father’s footsteps. Anne and I saw the mail-order bride advertisement, and I…”

“They all know about the letters,” Isaac said. He stepped closer to Clare, his hand on her elbow both a support and a protective gesture. “If you’ll excuse us, Clare and I have some things we need to talk about.”

* * *

The serious discussions were interrupted by a late supper followed by the evening chores.

Isaac heard Tillie and Jo tramp upstairs, Jo declaring she wasn’t the least bit tired with every step.

Drew had dispatched Eli and David to the bunkhouse.

They had been bedding down there for several nights now.

Isaac was glad for David’s influence over Eli.

After everyone had scattered for evening chores and to get the children in bed, Isaac stood at the corner of the dining table, looking down on a crudely drawn map that spread over several pages. A map of the corner where McGraw land met Quade land. The river and the bridge were sketched in.

When Nick had questioned Clare earlier, she’d revealed that sometimes the gang would meet at Anne’s farmhouse.

Clare had overheard enough of their planning to make a guess about what Victor was up to and how he would carry out his plan.

They had put Xs on the map where Clare thought it was most likely for Barlow to place the dynamite to blow both the bridge and move tons of dirt to change the riverbed.

Isaac was at war with himself. He wanted to save the ranch, same as Drew. He knew how much it meant to all his brothers. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and fear clawing at him. He hated this. He hated that they were caught up in some outlaw’s scheme with Quade.

Clare’s voice echoed in his mind. I know how to disable the dynamite.

My father taught me. He used to take me with him when he set charges…

showed me all the ways to disarm it. Her tone had been so matter-of-fact, but Isaac sensed something deeper.

It was strange, a man like her father teaching his daughter to handle explosives.

But he had, and even if she hadn’t used it in years, the knowledge was there.

Isaac wondered if her father had realized, before it was too late, that Clare wasn’t meant for that kind of life—not because she was weak but because of her strength.

She wouldn’t go through with it because she refused to let herself become like him.

Isaac felt a quiet admiration stirring within him.

He stared at the maps until his eyes blurred. He couldn’t see any way for this to end without bloodshed. And he was desperately afraid it would mean the grief of losing his nephew. Or one of his brothers.

“Isaac.”

Clare’s soft summons turned him away from the table.

She stood nearby, in the doorway of the small downstairs bedroom where David usually slept. One hand was braced against the jamb, and with the other, she waved him forward.

He was drawn to her, but he told himself it was the lines of exhaustion around her mouth that put his feet into motion.

She looked apologetic. “Ben asked for you.”

He nodded and angled his shoulders to pass her in the doorway, aware of her watching him as he approached the bed. Ben looked so small, skin still pale from the long wagon ride he’d endured today. Isaac perched on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle the boy’s leg.

“You were brave today, riding in the wagon for so long when I know it hurt your leg.”

Ben jutted his chin out. “Didn’t hurt as much as on the way to town.”

Isaac tousled his hair, still gentle.

“Wish I was in the bunkhouse with Eli ’n’ David.” Ben’s gaze flicked to the window, where the shadowy outline of the bunkhouse was just visible across the yard. “Bet they’re having fun.”

“They’d better be asleep,” Isaac said.

But he’d guess that Ben was right and the older boys were whispering, discussing the news that had unfolded today and how they might be a part of whatever the men planned tomorrow.

Drew and Ed wanted to take immediate action, but they hadn’t decided what to do.

He and Nick would join them later to discuss their next steps.

Ben yawned widely.

“Clare said you needed to talk to me,” Isaac prompted.

Ben fiddled with the quilt, bunching it in his fingers. “We’re McGraws now, right?”

Isaac heard Clare’s indrawn breath from the doorway.

But if he’d expected her to join in the conversation, he was disappointed. “That’s right,” he said.

Ben ducked his head so Isaac only had a view of his cheek and chin. “And McGraws take care of each other?”

Those were Drew’s words. How many times had Isaac heard them after Pa had passed, when it’d seemed like they wouldn’t have enough food to last through the winter? When he’d come home from the Marshals and hadn’t even been able to look his brother in the eye when he asked whether he could stay on.

He hadn’t realized he’d said them enough times to Ben that they’d stuck.

There was a knot in his throat that made his voice rough when he answered. “McGraws do.”

“If—if some bad men are here”—Ben’s voice was so quiet that Isaac had to lean in to hear—“what if they try to take me ’n’ Eli away?”

Oh.

Ben had heard enough of the adult conversation to be afraid. To know his pa’s gang was close.

Movement from the doorway drew Isaac’s attention, and he glanced up to see Clare with one hand over her mouth and tears welling in her eyes.

Isaac put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about that. You’re right about being a McGraw. No one is going to take you away from your aunt.”

Ben watched Isaac’s face carefully, then broke into a small smile. “I like it here. But not all the chores. Just the ones in the barn.”

Isaac couldn’t help but smile.

Ben settled further under the covers, and Isaac took that as his signal to leave.

Clare met him in the doorway, her eyes shadowed. “Sorry,” she whispered.

He didn’t understand why and was about to press when Drew, Ed, and Nick traipsed into the room and gathered at the table.

Clare retreated to stand by the window, her hand pressed against her mouth, her slim shoulders sagging as she stared into the darkness outside.

A heavy quiet settled over the house like a thick wool blanket. Darkness had fallen—it was too late to send for help. They’d have to wait till morning.

Drew, Ed, and Nick crowded around the table, their heads bowed over the map. Isaac should join them. But his eyes were drawn to Clare, alone by the window.

He shouldn’t. But he went to her anyway.

As he stepped behind her and caught their reflection in the windowpane, Clare’s eyes met his in the shiny glass. He saw her misery and fear.

It’s going to be all right.

The words to comfort her stuck in his throat. They both knew how dangerous Victor and his men were. If they had hitched their wagon to Quade and his henchmen, they made for a formidable group.

Isaac let both hands settle gently on Clare’s shoulders and felt her tremble.

“We’ll think of something,” he said. He’d promised to protect her and the boys, but ever since she’d made the connection between the dynamite on Quade’s land and her brother, Isaac had been spinning.

Trying to figure out a way to keep her safe.

To protect the McGraw land. And keep his family from getting themselves killed. He was failing at all of them.

“I’m afraid Victor’s going to send another scout into town,” Clare whispered. “Discover Lyle’s in jail, and the trail will lead right to the boys and me.”

Of course she would be worried about the boys. Ben couldn’t be moved easily. He’d been pale and hurting by the time they’d arrived home. Clare was effectively trapped here.

“We won’t let them get close,” he promised. And watched the reflection of her face crumble. Her shoulders convulsed with the effort to hold back a sob. He went a little lightheaded. What could he do? She didn’t trust him to protect her. Why should she? She’d seen firsthand how broken he was.

“I can’t stand the thought of your family—of you—being hurt—because of me.”

Her halting words surprised the breath out of him. He went stone-still.

“I—care about y-your family.”

Her show of emotion wasn’t about not trusting him. It was about her. And her big, open heart. She loved with all of her being. For a moment, he let himself wish he wasn’t so broken. That he had something more of himself to offer her.

He found himself squeezing her shoulders and pulling her back against his chest. His jaw brushed her temple and rested there for a scant second.

When his unfocused gaze rose, inched higher and sharpened, he caught Drew’s reflection from where he stood across the room. Drew jerked his chin, summoning Isaac.

He pressed his jaw into Clare’s hair, breathed in the scent of her, then let her go.

He crossed to join his brothers at the table. She stayed where she was but turned her back to the window and faced the room to listen.

“Quade’s got at least a half dozen men working on rerouting the river,” Drew said.

Isaac placed both hands on the table and flicked a glance to Clare. “How many in the Barlow Gang?”

“There have been as many as a dozen, but for the jobs that involve dynamite, Victor only takes the men that have been with him for a while and have experience. I would guess maybe four plus Victor.”

“We should sneak over there. Scout out if Barlow’s really there,” Nick said, drumming his fingers on the table. “So far, all we have is conjecture.”

“No,” Isaac said. “We get the marshal and her deputies involved. Three days is plenty of time. We need to let the law handle this.”

“We’ve got the advantage of knowing the area,” Ed said. “Maybe we could take them out one by one.”

Drew’s eyebrows rose as though he liked the idea.

“No,” Isaac said again, his voice a little louder, urgent. “Tomorrow, we ride for the marshal. Get the help we need.”

His eyes cut to Clare. She sent him a slight nod.

“Danna will help,” he said. “She’ll have a plan.”

Hopefully one that didn’t get his brothers killed.